The next day Lauren is home sick. AGAIN. She normally likes Wednesdays, too. And as I have to avoid both Danny and Bradley, the day goes really slowly. I get to check the comments on my vlog once. They are mainly about Dave.
Dave, tho.
Cat BAE.
Both need thereapy
(Spell therapy right if you are going to suggest it!)
Nothing wrong with lesbian cats. Love is love.
I feel like replying, “I am totally for marriage equality.” Then I realize that cats can’t get married anyway. Or perhaps they do and just don’t invite us.
When I get home, I find Aunty Teresa dressed in Victorian clothes and talking to herself.
“And they say that if you come here at night, you will see the ghost of a man who drowned after tending an injured duck. If you close your eyes tightly, you will hear his gentle quacking. Oh, hello, Millie!” she says when she spots me. “I’m just practicing! Your dad and I are doing a ghost tour.”
“I didn’t know there were any ghosts around here.” I’m used to being confused by Teresa, but this is totally bizarre.
“Oh, there’s not!” Aunty Teresa says casually. “We’re just going to make them up.”
“You can’t do that!” I shout. “That must be illegal.”
“Yes, we can, Millie. Someone made it all up once. Why not us? We will live in legend. WE WILL CREATE LEGEND!” Teresa roars.
Dad thunders into the room dressed as a ghost. He asks Teresa, “Is this going to work?”
I answer for her. “No, Dad—it’s not. You don’t look like a ghost. You look like a sheet.”
“Actually, clever clogs,” Dad says, “I’m a Roman. This is a toga. I’m the ghost of Emperor Caesar!”
This is too much. “Dad! Emperor Caesar never lived around here. That’s just a load of…”
Teresa gets quite aggressive. “You cannot prove, Millie, that Caesar did not come here on holiday. And, anyway, there were lots of Caesars. We need to do ghosts of all historical eras.”
“There was only one Caesar around here,” I say, “and he was actually a salad.”
When Teresa and Dad are like this, there’s only one place to go: away.
I sit in my room and think about Lauren. This is the longest we haven’t spoken. And she wasn’t even away from school this long when she had conjunctivitis. I check all her accounts. She’s posted a photo of a rainbow meme on Instagram with some ridiculous message about how “There can be no rainbow without a storm.”
So she can’t look after me in my hour of total need, but she’s well enough to make other people feel good. I feel a bit … rejected.
I check my views. There are a few more but no new subscribers. And all the new comments are about Dave.
Gonna change my name to Dave. TRIBUTE.
More Le Chat. Less Chat.
I hate it when people try to be clever and funny and they are NEITHER. It’s just annoying.
Dear Brain,
Think about something that makes you feel good. NOT Bradley. Think about Danny. Please don’t let Erin’s post have made him think I’m a cow.
I catch up on Canada, which I know a bit about. We have the same queen, but they have better ice cream and it’s bigger. Also there are more things that can kill you in Canada, like snakes, spiders, and the West Nile virus, which makes your brain basically explode. And if that doesn’t get you, then the bears will, and the only way to stop them attacking is to pretend you are dead already and hope the bear is a stupid one.
I take a deep breath. I imagine what would happen if Danny and I ever became a “thing.” I would probably say we should live here. I can’t do bears. Or elk. They charge during the mating season. I don’t even want to watch things with antlers kissing. Don’t charge at me for accidentally stumbling on your love thing like a spoon. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident! Carry on kissing your moosey girlfriend.
Why am I talking to an imaginary elk?
You know why. Love makes you do crazy things.
Teresa walks into my bedroom.
“Sorry. Don’t mind me,” she tries to whisper. “We just need more paranormal props for the ghost tour. Does this Barbie seem spooky to you?”
I look at her. “She’s got one arm, so I suppose so.”
“Yeah,” Aunty Teresa agrees. “I’m going to say it was a voodoo doll that was used in a ritualistic murder that happened in this house.”
“There WILL be a murder here in a minute if someone doesn’t come and tidy up this front room,” Granddad yells from the bottom of the stairs.
“Be honest, Mills. What’s more disturbing: a one-armed Barbie, or a Furby with a pulled-out eye?”
“Why don’t you use them both?” I suggest. “You could call them a duo of death.”
“Millie!” Aunty Teresa rushes over and hugs me. “Every so often I sense that you have a spark of our entrepreneurial spirit, our joie de vivre, our—”
Now Granddad bursts in. Why is there no privacy in this house? “You’re being ruddy crackers. Don’t get involved, Millie. Never mind ghosts; these two will put me in an early grave.”
Granddad looks at me. “And will you be requiring my shed today for one of your things that you do for your friends on the phone?”
I say “no” without letting my entire face say I AM HIDING AWAY FROM THE ENTIRE WORLD.
Granddad just shuffles off. Sometimes I am tremendous at pretending things are okay when they are clearly NOT.
Five minutes later, when I am still feeling quite excellent about fooling Granddad, Mum texts me. She still texts. Even though it costs money. She says she doesn’t trust the other things.
Anything you’d like to tell me, Millie?
I reply.
No. Why? Love you x
She replies instantly.
No reason. No problem. I’m here if you need me. Love you. XX
I think Mum has got a mind-melding machine in her head and she knows everything that goes on in my brain. Which is a worry. For both of us.
I just realized that mind melds are what they do in Star Trek. Sometimes it scares me how deep Bradley has got into my head. He’s there all the time like a small glowing lift, going up and down the floors of my brain. Never stopping. Just up and down. Waiting for me to get on and get in touch with him.
Which I still haven’t done since I kissed him.
And then I realize that makes me sound like the most full-of-myself, love-yourself horror girl since Erin Breeler and her elephant ego, and I stop.
I’m making this into something that it’s not. I’m sure he thinks that kiss was as weird as I did! Bradley loves the fact that I quite admire escalators. Not me. If he liked me he would have totally made a move now after I kissed him, and he hasn’t.
Erin. I wonder if she’s seen my vlog. I check Instagram. Sure enough, she’s at the top of my feed.
Her latest photo is a STUNNING one of her and her friends. They are angled and contoured immaculately. Erin’s cheekbones look like they’ve been created from a really lovely bit of a marble kitchen counter—pale and perfect with a flash of pink. It must have taken about five attempts to get it just right, but it was worth it. Underneath she’s written:
I am BACK!! I decided that you can’t let the haters win and today I had such a wonderful day. After school some BFFs and I went shopping (YES! I have more than one BFF!) and all the love was there. I will share what we bought later (I think you will LOVE it—but don’t get too excited. Just one jacket but a WONDERFUL one). I just want to thank you ALL so, so much for your support during this tough time. I came back from my break to find so many beautiful messages from all over the world encouraging me to carry on sharing. And I am going to. You have made me feel like a total superstar. Thank you SO MUCH. I will never again let the jealousy of some people stop what I’m doing or who I talk to. I LOVE YOU x
YET AGAIN there is nothing in that I can moan about. But underneath it all I know there is a message to me that says, “BACK OFF, MILLIE. I have the power. I have the masses on my side. If you attack, I will find not just one but a hundred ways to hurt you.”
Right now, I am the stranded whale of the social media world. Everyone will come to look at me on the beach as I struggle desperately to get oxygen. Some will feel very sorry for me, but they won’t be able to get me back to the sea. And all the time, Erin will be by a sand dune taking selfies with me in the back, flapping.…
And I am getting myself into a right state about everything.
I pick up the phone and call Lauren. FINALLY, she answers! I tell her what has happened, but she doesn’t seem to listen. There are lots of “yeah”s and “mmmm”s, which are totally unhelpful. She almost seems in a bit of a diva mood—which is very unlike Lauren.
“The thing is,” I say to her, “I need to do SOMETHING!”
“No, you don’t,” Lauren snaps. Now I’m really worried. She doesn’t get how serious all this is.
“Lauren! All my followers will be waiting for me to respond to her!”
“No, they won’t, Millie. You can do a one-minute-long vlog. ‘What to do when you’re caught out. Well, you just have to take it on the chin and move on with it. Thanks. Bye.’ That’s what you should do.”
Lauren sounds angry. Almost … nasty.
“You think it’s as simple as that?”
“Probably, Millie. Anyway, stuff is going on here, so I’ve got to go. Bye.”
I say, “Okay. Bye!”
But I don’t really believe that at all—inside I am broken and absolutely gutted. And what stuff is going on that Lauren can’t speak to me about?! That’s total spoon behavior from her.
Or …
Or perhaps she’s been kidnapped, and she’s being held hostage and can’t talk to me.
Perhaps “stuff” was a code word for really bad stuff involving extremists who want to make the country YouTube-free or Lauren-free or something.
Or perhaps she’s cross with me. Though, I can’t think why she would be. I’ve told her everything that’s happened with the vlog while she’s been away.
Either way, I can’t sit here and let my friend become a statistic or fall out with me. I need to go over to her house and find out what’s going on. I wonder about taking backup, but in a house full of ghosts and old people, it’s better, as Granddad says, to be a lone soldier of fortune. With a phone. I take my phone, obviously. You can’t be without that. That would be insane.